How does MC react to sans turning her into a siren??? Would she be upset or scared??
Mc’s reaction would depend a lot on how much of a hand her crew had in her death.
If she felt like they helped kill her, perhaps by pushing her in or abandoning her once she hit the water instead of pulling her to safety, as soon as she awoke in her new body she’d break out of Sans’ ‘loving arms’ and immediately flee toward the open ocean & the dangerous fields of icebergs that she’s hoping will be harder for him to traverse. She’s nowhere near as fast as he is so he’d be in pursuit, but... not exactly a hot pursuit, considering he’s moving at his equivalent of a brisk walk to keep up with her, and all that joy from knowing they’re finally together makes his mood sunny and calm. This would give them a lot of time to start bonding- even if they have to do it with her up on an iceberg and him stalking around the edges.
However, if she died purely by accident (falling through the ice and getting drowned as a result) her first reaction would be to go back to the station, hoping they’ll help her. And that... well. That brings a whole host of problems.
Okay, instead of Lena passing out due to giving precious rations to Red Daughter, what if the decreased rations just makes her a little foggier, a little less alert... leaving her prey for a wolf or bear. Lena manages to fight it off until Red Daughter hears the commotion and kills the beast to protect Lena. By then, the damage is done.
Lena has Red Daughter help her back inside, and where she patches herself up as best she can. By this point, Red Daughter can maintain the camp by herself for the most part, having been helping Lena for a few months, so she works while Lena rests up.
But then slowly Lena starts getting worse as sepsis sets in. Radios are down due to a snowstorm, and Red Daughter is forced to bunker down with a worsening Lena unconscious and fevered beside her.
Eventually, Red Daughter comes to a decision: she's going to have to fly Lena out herself. She gets Lena to the nearest hospital, and when asked how they got there, Red Daughter says only that they flew.
Well, when the DEO comes to investigate the sighting of Supergirl's doppelganger, their driver and guide only huffs in disbelief when he relates the story.
"What?" Alex asks. "Something not sit right with you?"
"I'd say so," the man says. "Considering I'm the closest bush pilot around here for 200 miles. And however she got here, wasn't by plane; ain't no plane getting through the blizzard that hit the station."
Alex and Nia shoot each other a look. Looks like they're in the right place after all.
In the literal universe where one could be born a natural magic user or one blessed by the gods, Techno was one left untouched. Magic didn't course through his veins like Tommy or Phil, nor did it didn't sing for him like Wilbur. It wasn't his to take nor curl up against, but that was fine.
He didn't care for the gods. They had never cared for him.
They never answered his prayers no matter how much he yelled. He was one of the few who were left unheard.
He never truly cared for the gods, wasn't something he learned much about. He did end up learning much more around Wilbur, who sung for the gods since his very first breath and who found solace in them.
It didn't matter, he did not fight for the gods. Did not fight for these ambiguous beings that held the world in place. He didn't need to fight for them. They were gods. And what is god to a man?
He was forged in blood and battle, soaked with the spoils of a war won and life pumping through his veins. He was forged in steel and bone taken apart and snaped back into place through sheer will. He was forged in the belly of the underworld, darkness all around and what are the gods to that of men who could take.
So he would fight not for any gods, for none were worth his time. He could see the divinity surrounding all his friends his family but he could also see that it did not touch him.
No matter.
Instead his divinity comes in the thrill of the battle. His is his sword swinging, blood flying in the air. His is standing straight behind Wilbur, eyes scanning for hidden knives. His is the dirt and sweat clinging to his armour after the end. His is the comfort of home, walking back to the castle in victory.
His is the fear that he can see in enemy eyes. His are the enemies calling out the blasphemous phrase.
Summary: The South Pole Station is equipped for research and Edge has always made sure things run smoothly for the inhabitants. His charges are meant to follow his rules and regulations, and in turn, he makes sure they survive in the arctic temperatures. It takes plenty of hard work and determination and Edge, along with his crew, can handle both.
He wasn’t counting on one of the newest researchers. He wasn’t expecting Rus.
Tags: Spicyhoney, First Time, Arctic AU, Hurt/Comfort
~~*~~
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four
Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve
Before Edge and Rus even got to the entrance of the main building, he could hear Rus shivering, bones rattling even through his heavy clothes from being too long outside. Edge quickened his stride, boots crunching on the hardpacked snow as he pulled Rus along behind him into the outer vestibule, out of the cold. His teeth were chattering so loudly he couldn’t speak, but Edge didn’t wait for him to force any words past the clatter. He stripped off his own gloves, tossing them carelessly aside to start on Rus’s gear. The zipper stuck halfway down on his heavy coat, nearly frozen closed and Edge yanked it loose.
Clumsy, gloved hands tried to interfere with his own in feeble protest, Rus chattering out, “h-here, i c-c-an help.”
“Hold still,” Edge commanded, impatiently batting them aside. “Getting you warm is more important than your dignity right now.” He was already biting back foul curses that Rus might mistake as meant for him but were entirely for himself. He should have forced Rus inside earlier instead of allowing his turmoil over what was happening to override his sense. None of this would matter if they failed at basic safety protocols.
Rus’s hands fell away reluctantly. He let Edge strip off his outer gear, obediently standing on one foot and then the other so that Edge could pull off his boots. Edge stripped off the socks, ignoring Rus’s startled complaint as he thoroughly checked his toes. They were icy against his warmer hands, but they showed no sign of frostbite, the bones their normal ivory without any darkened patches or worse. He switched to his hands, pulling off Rus’s gloves to check his fingers as well. Again, his bones were chilled but there was no real damage.
Their outer clothing was carelessly strewn around them and the melting snow from their boots left spreading puddles on the rugs that would earn anyone else a stern reprimand. Edge ignored it all, yanking open the bright orange lid of one of the emergency bins that were stationed on both sides of the door. Tucked in with the first aid equipment and flares were several heavy wool blankets. Edge shook one out and wrapped it around Rus’s shoulders, enveloping him in the scratchy folds as he rubbed his arms and back briskly. Slowly, the teeth chattering eased down to the occasional shudder, Rus burrowing into the blanket until only the top of his head showed, his eye lights bright as he peered out through the gap.
“thanks, b-boss,” Rus said ruefully. He held up a hand, watching his own fingers as he waggled them stiffly. “if i wreck anything on the bod, i won’t get my deposit back.”
“Hush, fool,” Edge said. At first, he was only exasperated with his inability to keep back a smile, Rus did not need any encouragement to take reckless risks. He sobered quickly, reminded of what Rus’s brother said about him being made. Nothing more than a key for a very specific lock. With some effort, Edge schooled his expression into something sterner. “Kitchen, now,” he ordered, and Rus nodded sheepishly, letting Edge help him to his feet. As much as he would have preferred to scoop Rus up and carry him, there were the other researchers to consider. Some propriety was to be expected, encouraged, he couldn’t simply…the moment Rus stumbled, Edge abandoned the pretense and swept him up in his arms, walking swiftly towards the galley. He couldn’t regret it as Rus laid his skull against Edge’s chest with a quiet sigh, automatically tightening his hold. Abruptly, he didn’t care what anyone else thought of it. However this might play out, his time of being able to hold Rus in his arms was soon ending. He was going to take every opportunity he could.
Edge pushed his way through the dining room door and headed directly into the kitchen where Bonnie was stirring a pot at the stove with the makings for tonight’s dinner neatly laid out on the countertop next to her. There was door indicator light in one corner that flashed as they came in and Bonnie turned to look at them, her expression of mild irritation shifting to concern as she saw Rus. She began signing immediately, a fluttering swathe of concern and questions as she bustled over to where Edge was settling Rus into a nearby chair.
“No, he’s fine,” Edge replied, signing swiftly before Rus managed to form a single word with his trembling hands. “He only needs a hot drink and a chance to warm up.”
She nodded and quickly poured a cup of hot water from the kettle on the back of the stove, adding a tea bag. Bonnie kept signing as she worked, a furious flurry of scolding and worry in between slamming a heavy pot on an empty burner. Edge only let her rant, holding Rus’s hands between his own to help warm them. She took a container from the refrigerator that Edge knew contained her special broth, her own recipe for wayward scientists who needed warming.
When Rus tried to clumsily reply, he quickly found himself with a steaming mug shoved pointedly into his hands. She gestured at it sternly and he gave her a meek nod, sipping at the tea with a grimace. “guess i don’t deserve any honey today, huh.”
Edge let him take another presumably bitter sip, his pretty face twisting into a grimace, before retrieving the honey jar himself. He held it out of reach as Rus reached for it eagerly, instead spooning a healthy dollop into his cup.
Behind him, Bonnie huffed, and he glanced over to see her signing, smugly, Spoiled.
He turned to face her, his back to Rus as he signed discreetly, He deserves a little spoiling. After the confrontation earlier with Toriel and Gaster, they all did and he would have to make sure that Undyne and Red got their share later.
“please, go ahead and trash talk about me,” Rus said behind him, “i’ll just sit here and pretend i don’t notice. alone. rejected.”
He didn’t sign and a mouth without lips did not lend itself to lipreading, but Bonnie’s expression still softened as her good eye flicked to him. He looked smaller bundled up in his oversized blanket and the aura of pathos around him would have been obvious were they blind and deaf.
Bonnie made a rough, fussing sort of sound and turned back to the stove where the rich scent of broth was starting to rise. She had plenty of experience tending to foolish researchers that spent too much time outside while wrapped up in their work and knew well how to handle them. He could certainly trust Rus in her care and Edge ignored the clamoring urge in his soul to not let Rus out of his sight again. He pressed a light kiss to the top of his skull, felt Rus go still beneath the touch.
“Stay here,” Edge said softly, “and get warmed up. I’ll be right back.”
Rus was already trying to stand, his blanket sagging from his shoulders. “but—”
“No buts. Stay here,” Edge stressed. “You need to get your core temperature up, that’s an order.” He tucked the blanket back around Rus. It was true, but it was also a handy excuse. It might be best that he spoke to Alphys alone first to voice his suspicions. The last thing they needed was for him to pull another disappearing act, especially without any outdoor gear on. He brushed his fingertips against Rus’s cheekbone, relieved to note he already seemed much warmer, and said, “I won’t be gone long.”
Rus reluctantly nodded and Edge left him to Bonnie’s somewhat tender mercies and headed for the lab.
It was no surprise to find Alphys waiting for him. For once, her ever present headphones were off and there was no perky anime episode playing on a nearby screen, an anomaly in a monitor bank that was only showing the local cameras. She was sitting in her office chair, her clawed hands clasped loosely in her lap and she looked up when Edge walked in, her eyes anxious behind her glasses. She opened her mouth and Edge shook his head, mouthing, “Not here.”
He jerked his head towards the door and she nodded, following as he led the way back out. Then it was a question of where to go. His own rooms were compromised, Rus had been in them several times, and he couldn’t trust any of the common areas. He settled for a little used storage room, unlocking it to herd Alphys inside where the two of them were surrounded by towering shelves of neatly labeled boxes.
Alphys shivered, wrapping her arms around her torso. She preferred a higher temperature than most of the station was kept at and storage rooms were not well heated.
“I h-heard everything in the rec room,” she said without preamble. “Everything th-the queen and Rus’s brother said.”
“Good,” Edge said approvingly, “so we don’t need to dance around the terms of Toriel’s promise.” Adding in a little soul damage from breaking a magic binding was not the icing he wanted slathered on this particular cake. Useful as well, that at least one of them weren’t bound by its terms. “So you know that he was looking for information on the Core.”
She nodded, “I-it is possible that he found the plans in the old royal scientists notes. I m-made my own when Asgore p-promoted me, b-but the old notes were still in the Hotland lab.” She hung her head, “I d-didn’t think to t-take them with me when we l-l-left.”
“Understandable,” Edge said gently. “Why would you if they weren’t needed? But they’ve been in our world for two years and he conveniently found what he was looking for only a few weeks after Rus came here. That’s one hell of a coincidence, don’t you think?”
She nodded unhappily. Tears were standing out in her eyes as she struggled to ask, “Rus w-was in the lab with me a b-bunch of times. D-do you think th-that, d-do you th-think, y-you, th-that he--?”
A fine mist of spittle sprayed as she labored with words that refused to come, and while Edge would normally never interrupt her, he couldn’t bear to force her to keep trying.
“I don’t, or at least I don’t think he was aware if it was him.” Edge lowered his voice, “If we have a security leak, we need to find it. The Core information isn’t the only thing I’m concerned about.” Alphys’s experiments were meant for bettering their own home and perhaps eventually the world, but if it came to that, it was her right to the achievement and no other.
“My p-private research folders are locked down, b-but, there’s a few things on the main servers.” A determined glint shown in her watery eyes, “I’m on i-it.”
“Good. If you can find Red, get him to help.” Alphys was an excellent engineer, but Red was the real hacker on their team. If they’d somehow been infiltrated, he’d find it and if she didn’t find him, then Edge would. His brother had secrets of his own and Edge’s willingness to allow it was coming to an end.
He’d always known Red worked briefly with the royal scientist before Alphys and that there had been a falling out of some sort about it, enough that Red abandoned his PhD to work as a lowly sentry rather than return to the labs. It wasn’t until they’d come to surface that Red dusted off his original career path and even now, he tended to avoid Alphys’s lab, preferring to meet with her anywhere else.
That much Edge knew. What he didn’t know was how Red was so familiar with the portal machine Gaster mentioned or how he knew they needed Rus to use it. From his brother’s sickly reaction to the mere mention of it, it would not be a pleasant conversation. But it was a necessary one, they needed answers and he’d rather have them from Red than risk making more promises to Toriel.
Alphys set out back to the lab at a hasty waddle and Edge turned towards the kitchen, intending to check on Rus again. Before he could take a single step, the sound that carried through the hallways froze him in his tracks. A high-pitched scream, broken and garbled but the terror was undeniable. He didn’t think, running towards the kitchen and pushing roughly past anyone who came out, ignoring their confused, fearful questions of ‘what was that?’
He pushed open the dining room door with enough force to make it bang against the opposite wall, slowing at the kitchen door as he looked through the narrow window at the scene inside.
Gaster was standing in the doorway nearly blocking Edge’s view, but he could see Bonnie over his shoulder, the mad, reddened tint to her glare as she brandished a chef’s knife in his direction. Held behind her was Rus, backed into a corner and he could see the panic on his face, his mouth moving with words that Bonnie couldn’t hear.
Gaster’s hands moved, signing, and whatever he said was very much the wrong thing. Bonnie let out another unearthly cry and shook her head, her scarred ears tousling around her shoulders, and the shrill pain and fear in that shriek needing no explanation. Something was horribly wrong and there was no time to guess at what, this situation needed defused before someone ended up a pile of dust.
Cautiously, Edge pushed open the door and stepped inside, keeping both hands raised and clearly visible. The knife point flashed in his direction and Bonnie’s wild glare gave no indication that she recognized him.
“Easy,” Edge soothed. He stepped in front of Gaster, careful to keep out of range of that knife as he signed slowly and precisely. “Bonnie, it’s me, Edge. Easy, now, you know I would never hurt you or Rus, don’t you? You know me.”
Some glimmer of sanity seeped back into her unscarred eye. She blinked slowly, the tip of the knife wavering as she lowered it.
Only to jerk back up as Gaster blustered out indignantly, “As if I’d hurt my own brother! This is ridiculous!”
“Shut up,” Edge said, never changing his gentle, easy tone. “Unless you’d like to add some extra holes to the ones you already have.”
He heard the sharp click of teeth closing together behind him and tried again, his gaze never leaving the gleaming metal of the knife as he stepped closer. Rus kept perfectly still behind her, letting Edge talk her down. “Bonnie. Come on, put the knife down. You’re safe here, he’s safe. Didn’t I promise you that when we came here? That I would protect us all, that this would be a safe place for us. Haven’t I always kept my promises?”
She nodded slowly. Tears were running from her good eye, the scarred one only staring out, milky white and sightless. The knife began lowering again and Edge reached for it slowly, telegraphing every move. Only for two of Gaster’s hand constructs that were hanging in the air to swiftly move, reaching for Rus where he was still crammed into the corner behind Bonnie.
Rus cried out, too late, “no, dings, don’t!”
With a raw, ragged cry, Bonnie lashed out, slashing through one of the hands. It dissipated with a puff of purple magic even as Gaster yelped aloud, staggering back against the door as Bonnie tried to lunge past Edge.
He caught hold of her around the waist with one arm, yanking her off balance. The two of them toppled to the floor, Bonnie shrieking and ungainly, and Edge prayed silently that his evenings sparring with Undyne helped keep his skills honed enough for this. He stopped thinking then, on autopilot as years of training took control. He twisted enough to bring his knee down sharply on her wrist, forcing Bonnie to release the knife. She shrieked and tried to hold on, but he was relentless, the bones under his knee close to snapping as it finally fell from her fingers. It clattering to the tile and Edge batted it away, sending it spinning underneath one of the countertops as he caught hold of her wrists, yanking both her hands up between her shoulder blades and pinning her to the floor. Even that didn’t stop her, she heaved and fought under him, teeth gnashing and nearly throwing him off as she struggled to crawl at Gaster, who’d backed into a corner to watch foolishly with wide, fearful sockets instead of taking the chance to escape out the door.
Then Rus darted in between them, falling to his knees in front of Bonnie as he signed frantically. “stop! please!” Rus pleaded. Tears were streaming from his sockets, pale orange stains against white bone. “he’s my brother, it’s all right!”
Bonnie’s struggles slowed, but instead of being reassured, her expression dissolved into horror, staring at Rus with a gaze that was half-wounded, half-scarred emptiness. She began to fight again, this time not to get to Gaster, but a frantic struggle to get away. Edge let her go before she could hurt herself and she scrambled to her feet, casting a last terrified look at Rus and Gaster before fleeing into the pantry, the door slamming behind her.
Rus sagged down and covered his face with shaking hands, tears leaking out from beneath. Gaster came out from his corner and knelt by his brother, sliding an arm around his slim, shaking shoulders as he quietly sobbed. Edge resisted the urge to push him away and take his place.
“What in blazes was that all about?” Gaster huffed. Over his shoulder, two disembodied hands signed furiously, “I came in for a simple cup of coffee and she attacked me! Do you regularly employ psychotics?”
Rus’s head jerked up and wiping at his tear-stained face impatiently as he pulled away from his brother with a scowl. “fucking hell, dings, it’s not like that!”
“Watch your language!”
Edge nearly offered an entire barrage of language for this bastard to deal with. Before he could, a voice spoke up from the doorway.
“matter of fact, we do.” They all turned in unison to the door to see Red standing there, hands tucked into his pockets, his sunglasses on and his knit cap carefully in place. His grin was humorless and cold, sharpened teeth gleaming in the glare of the overhead lights. “want another demonstration?”
Gaster returned his furious glare with one of his own, chin stiffly lifted, “Why, I never!”
Red’s grin only widened. “glad i could pop your cherry, then.”
“That’s enough!” Edge snapped.
“yeah, it is. ‘scuse me.” Red strolled past them all where they were still on the floor, sidestepping around them as casual as a day in the park. Him treading on Gaster’s hand was definitely deliberate and Edge didn’t mind it at all. Red buttonhooked into the pantry, yanking the door shut behind him, and that left the three of them sitting together on the kitchen floor.
The sudden hiss of a pot boiling over broke the painful silence. Edge stood, nearly staggering over to the stove to turn off the burner and drop a lid on the pot. Perhaps Bonnie would be able to salvage whatever it was. Once she salvaged herself, that was.
He turned back to Rus and Gaster, their matching pale faces, and was torn. He needed to check on Red and Bonnie, but leaving Rus alone with Gaster felt wrong, brother or not.
One corner of Rus’s mouth quirked up, a resigned smile and he jerked his head towards the pantry door. “go on, i’ll stay right here.”
Gaster said nothing, only grunted as Rus jammed an elbow into his side before signing reluctantly, “I’ll go back to my assigned room. With my coffee, thank you very much.”
Good enough. Edge nodded curtly and went to the pantry door, hearing Rus sighing behind him, “bro, you have the world’s shittiest timing—"
The pantry was darker than the kitchen, only a single bare bulb lighting the room. The walls were lined with shelves of canned goods, jarred sauces and homemade jellies, industrial-sized bags of flour, pasta, and beans. In the furthest corner, Bonnie lay curled up on the floor, her sides heaving as she shuddered. Next to her, Red was sitting cross-legged, signing to her as he spoke, each gesture slow and soothing.
“it ain’t the same guy, buns.” Red told her. “i’m tellin’ ya, it ain’t.”
She shifted enough to stab an accusing finger at Red. The fur on her face was matted and wet.
“nah, i ain’t bullshitting you,” Red said, “i’m telling it straight, it ain’t him. i get it, gave me a helluva jolt too when i laid eyes on ‘im, but he ain’t old enough, not even close. that guy ain’t more’n a few years older than the fashion victim, it can’t be him.” He reached out and settled a sharp-fingered hand on her shoulder, giving her a little shake before drawing back to sign again. “he’s dead, buns, dead and dust, long gone for years now. yeah?” He waited, endlessly patient, until she slowly nodded. “he can’t hurt us anymore, get me? can’t hurt anyone at all.”
Edge watched in disbelieving silence as Bonnie unfurled from the corner and crawled over to Red, nearly collapsing against him with a sob. She buried her face into his shoulder, smearing his jacket with all the fluids that came with her agonized weeping and Red only held her. He glanced at Edge, utterly unconcerned as though this were a weekly event and not the first moment he’d ever seen Bonnie and Red set aside their endless antagonisms of each other in an embrace.
“What the hell was that all about?” Edge asked in a furious whisper.
“not now, little brother,” Red said absently. He ran a hand down Bonnie’s head, smoothing the ruffled fur on her ears down.
Not good enough, not by far, not when his chef abandoning her duties for attempted murder. “I want an explanation.”
“and you’ll get one,” Red said, testiness creeping into his voice. “we’ll get to it, but there’s more important shit goin’ on right now. for starters, go get that gap-faced fucker out of the kitchen and keep him out until it’s time for him to get back on the chopper. he can eat in his room and if he don’t like it, he can fucking starve. she don’t need to be seeing his ugly mug again.”
On that they could agree. Edge nodded curtly and spun on his heel, ready to escort their guest back to his borrowed quarters and this time, he’d ensure he stayed there.
Gaster is dead, Red told him once. A different Gaster, one from this world. Gaster is dead, long live Gaster, Edge thought sourly as he headed out to deal with this version of a person he’d never met.
